Teardrops on my Guitar
by PhoenixOnTheRise
Summary: Now a two-shot. Brittany wakes up in the hospital after her suicidal attempt and finds Santana waiting for her. As it turns out, fairytales really do have a happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer. No Copy right Intended. Lyrics are changed a bit, but song is Teardrops on my Guitar by Taylor Swift. **

She's been your best friend since the moment she walked up to you and offered you half her sandwich after six-year-old Dave Karofsky had taken yours. She's been your best friend through the heartbreakes, the headaches, and everything else life threw at you. Even when she was the cause of them. But you don't tell her that; it'd break her heart. So, you let her break yours because it keeps her happy.

She came out to you the night before freshman year. You just shrugged, saying, "okay," and that was that. You'd never thought it would come back and bite you in the ass.

Midway through sophomore year a new girl transferred to your school. She immediately caught your best friend's eye and you would stay up late at night listening to the girl on the other end of the phone as she rambled on about how amazing this new girl is. All you could hear was how much better she was than you. You swallowed your pride, literally, and croaked out, "You should ask her out." And she did.

They've been together for two years now. This girl makes your best friend happier than you've ever seen her; happier than you ever made her. That never stopped you from falling so hopelessly in love with her though. So you stick by her side and let her tell you all about how this girl buys her flowers, compliments her on a daily basis, and looks at her like she's the last girl to ever exist on this earth; all the things you wish you could do, but can't. It's slowly killing you inside. Every second is just another twist of the knife into your already shattered soul. You know it won't be much longer until you break completely. They both got accepted into UCLA and you got accepted into Julliard. They invited you out to celebrate with them, and you couldn't decline because then she would ask you, "what's wrong?" and you'd be putty in her hands. You spent the entire night being a third wheel. That night you cried yourself to sleep, the same way you've been doing for the last two years.

You ignored all her requests to hang out the next day, shooting her a short text that read _hung-over, sorry._ Truth is you hadn't had a sip of alcohol the night before, you just needed an excuse to avoid her. Every time you go near her, butterflies swarm in your stomach and your skin gets all tingly like when you rub your sock covered feet on the carpet in the winter and press your finger to an electrical switch. Lord Tubbington thinks you're crazy, but you just think it's because he's never been in love before. You almost wish you didn't have to fall in love with her. Out of seven billion people, of course you find the one you can never have. All those fairytales Daddy used to read to you before bedtime are BULLSHIT. Real life doesn't have happy endings. So you do the only thing you know how to, you dance. You spend the weekend camped out in your basement studio, _her_ playlist on repeat. Dance has been the one thing in your life you could always turn to, especially when you couldn't turn to her. You could close your eyes and get lost in the music. Reality was non-existent. You'd dance until your muscles ached, then danced some more, knowing it could never compare to the infinite dull thud of the organ in your chest. Then, when you've ran out of tears to cry, you would drag your body up the stairs and submerge yourself in an ice bath. You'd sit in that ice bath, in the dark, in complete silence, until all the ice melted, confirming that yes, you were still alive. You're body still generated heat, even when you're heart didn't.

She'd never admit it, but she was secretly a fan of country music. She would make you listen to it for hours when it was just you and her. You'd dance around her room in your underwear and she would sing into a hairbrush in front of her mirror. You used to smile at the memory, but now it makes you cringe. You decided that it would be the best way to tell her how you feel. Minus the underwear part, though, that would be kinda creepy if you walked into glee club in just your blue, duck-printed panties.

She had an arm wrapped around her girlfriend's waist as you sat on a stool in the middle of the room and began to play. No one knew you could play guitar, but you learn things like that when you're lonely.

_"San looks at me, I fake a smile so she won't see_

_That I want, and I'm needing everything that we should be_

_I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl you talk about_

_And she's got everything that I have to live without_

_San talks to me, I laugh 'cause it's so damn funny_

_That I can't even see anyone when she's with me_

_She says she's so in love, she's finally got it right_

_I wonder if she knows she's all I think about at night_

_She's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar_

_The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star_

_She's the song in the car I keep singing don't know why I do_

_San walks by me, can't she tell that I can't breathe_

_And there you go so perfectly, the kind of flawless I wish I could be_

_She better hold you tight, give you all her love_

_Look in your beautiful eyes, and know she's lucky 'cause_

_You're the reason for the teardrops on my guitar_

_The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star_

_You're the song in the car I keep singing don't know why I do_

_So I drive home alone, as I turn out the light_

_I'll put your picture down and maybe get some sleep tonight_

_Cause you're the reason for the teardrops on my guitar_

_The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart _

_You're the song in the car I keep singing _

_Don't know why I do_

_You're the time taken up, but there's never enough_

_And you're all that I need to fall into_

_San looks at me, _

_I_

_Fake a smile so she won't_

_See_

You have tears flowing freely down your cheeks by the time you're done. An eerie silence follows your performance because no one knows what to do. Her girlfriend looks furious, but she just looks sad. Mr. Schue starts a slow clap and a few others gradually join in. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Instead, she destroys you entirely by looking at her girlfriend. You sprint out of the room, your guitar hitting the ground behind you. Everything is a blur. You're running through your neighborhood, tears burning your eyes and memories flashing through your mind as you pass everything that reminds you of her. You knew this was a bad idea. But the heart wants what the heart wants. You should've learned a long time ago that life is only a slap in the face when you need it least. Daddy died in the war, prince charming doesn't exist, and you're only friend is the girl who you fell in love with but doesn't love you back.

You run until your legs burn. Your chest is contracting as you gasp for air, but you don't stop. You run across the secluded bridge she showed you the summer before freshman year and you jump into the creek, images of her plaguing your soul before everything fades into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**It has been requested that I extend this story due to its unsatisfying previous ending. So, here you go. **

You wake up and all you see is white. Heaven, you think, you've made it to Heaven. But something feels off. Since when does Heaven have beeping? It's not like that in the movies.

The next thing you hear is the voice of an angel. It's _her_ voice. But it doesn't sound peaceful and hopeful and angelic like it's supposed to. It's desperate and pleading and broken. "Wake up Britt. Wake up. It's me, Santana. Open your eyes Britt. I'm here. Please, Brittany, please. Wake up!" You hear a sigh of frustration before heart wrenching sobs fill the silence. Instinct kicks in and you feel the need to wrap your arms around her, let her clutch onto your shirt as she hides her face in your neck and the salty liquid pouring from her eyes seeps down your skin and into your clothes; you need to stroke her hair like a mother would to a child who skid his knee and got his first boo-boo. You need to comfort her, make her smile, do anything, anything, just so she'll stop crying. But you can't. It's like you're paralyzed. Your mind is so urgently trying to move, but your body isn't listening. Then it hits you: you must be in a coma. You can't open your eyes, but you don't need to, she's even beautiful when she cries. You can't move any part of your body, which is only hurting the both of you even more; but the worst part of it all? The worst part is that she feels the way you felt when you couldn't have her. She feels exactly the way you always thought you were protecting her from feeling. And it's all your fault. You have failed, you have broken the promise you swore you'd die trying to keep. How ironic, right?

"How is she?" another voice enters the room. By now the sobs have subsided and from the shuffling you can infer that she's wiping her eyes. She never was one to show weakness. You loved - love - that about her. She'd cry whenever you watched the Lion King together, but to the rest of the world, she was a stone-cold bitch.

It's your brother, the voice that is. He probably came straight home from college when he found out. You were always close with him, especially after your father died.

"Fine." She replied, "Still no change."

"I brought you some coffee," you hear your brother say.

"Thanks," she says.

You hear shuffling and can imagine him walking across the room to look out the window before talking a seat on the opposite side of the bed from her. He used to do that when Daddy died; as if, if he looked hard enough, Dad would suddenly reappear and everything would be okay again. It never was.

It's silent for a while, but knowing your brother it won't last too much longer. And you're right. He clicks on the TV and puts on The Wiggles. You'd chuckle if you could. Pierces have always been children at heart. It's part of our charm. After what you calculated to be four hours of The Wiggles, you hear your brother say he has to go home and check on Mom. He says he'll bring her some clothes and stuff back when he comes in tomorrow. You imagine him kissing her forehead on the way out, like he used to do with you. But it's like he's afraid to now, like if he puts his lips on your forehead you'll shatter like glass and never be the same again. The door clicks shut and it's just you and her again. She turns off the TV and you hear her shuffling. The toilet flushes and you take comfort in knowing that she refuses to leave you.

She manages to lie down next to you and place her arm across your abdomen. She must've fallen asleep, because you can hear slight snoring coming from your right side. Knowing that she's safe, you manage to slip back into sub-subconciousness.

"Santana, mija, wake up. Santanita, I need to check her vitals, sweetie." It's the voice of Mr. Lopez, he's a doctor here at Lima Hospital. You should've known she wouldn't want anyone else taking care of you. But then again, you never thought you'd be in this situation to begin with.

"No papí, I don't want to see Santa Claus right now." she mumbles in her sleep.

You hear him chuckle. He moves around her sleeping body as he tests your breathing, heartbeat, and temperature. He scribbles it down on his chart, then you think he takes a picture because you hear the click go off and it sounds like the one you hear when she takes a photo on her phone. She nuzzles closer to you and you can feel your heart beating out of your chest. The click of the door signifies that Mr. Lopez has left and you are left to wonder what the hell is going on.

How are you still alive? What day is it? Where's her girlfriend? How long have you been asleep? When will you wake up? Is this a dream? Is Will. I. Am. still the president? What edition of kidz bop are we on? What does this mean for her and you? What's going to happen when you wake up?

You hear the beeping get faster and faster. You're going into shock. Doctors rush into the room and try to resuscitate you as she screams, "No! Put me down! I said put me down! Don't do this to me Brittany. You can't die on me. You just can't. Britt there's so many things I need to say. So many things we need to do. I love you. Please. I love you."

Your eyes snap open at the confession and your head immediately starts pounding. You wince as you bring a hand up to it. Doctors are standing above you waiting until you can speak. "Water," you croak out. One of them hands it to you. You drink as they all look at you anxiously.

"Hello, Brittany, glad to see you're awake." Says Doctor Holiday, according to her badge. "I'm Doctor Holiday. You were in a coma for fourteen days. You're in Lima Hospital right now."

"Where's Santana?" is the first thing that leaves your mouth.

She chuckles. "She's just outside your door, sweet cheeks. She can come in when we finish running some tests."

They test your memory, your motor skills, and your vital signs. After passing, they all finally leave and she comes rushing in. She pulls you into a death grip and you let her hold you until she gets out all her tears. At some point, you managed to wrap your arms around her, too. Neither of you said anything. There was so much that needed to be said, but not in that moment. She pulls away hesitantly and sits beside you, her left hand clutching your right and refusing to let go.

"I missed you," she starts off. You keep your eyes trained on her but you don't dare say anything. "Jess and I broke up. I couldn't be with her anymore. She's not you. No one will ever be you, Brittany. I need you. Why did you do it?"

"Do you. . . do you remember the year after we met? We were in the same first grade class and we read _The Giving Tree_. I told you, 'San, you're like the tree because you gave me half your sandwich and it made me happy.' But as we got older, I became the tree and you became the boy. We got lost in translation somewhere. I lost my chance San, I could never make you as happy as the tree made the boy. I could never make you as happy as _she _could. I didn't have anything left to give. We were just not meant to be San. I was dragging you down and you deserved to be happy. I just wanted to stop hurting."

"Oh Britt," she coos, "All I ever needed was a place to sit down and rest."

We searched each others' eyes until the tension was at its breaking point. Her eyes flickered down to your lips and we slowly leaned in. You could feel her hot breath tickle your cheeks. Your palms were shaking and your heart was racing, but when she put her lips on yours, everything stopped. Piece by piece your body glued itself back together. For the first time in your life, you feel whole. She flickers her tongue across your bottom lip and it sends a jolt through your veins, bringing you back to life. She pulls back and rests her forehead against yours. Your eyes are still closed, and you think hers are, too.

"Teach me how to play guitar," she murmurs.

You shrug. "Okay."

**THE END **


End file.
